


Even Men of Death Must Learn to Grieve

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU:<br/>He hadn't meant to get attached, after all, he's a professional.  A professional grim reaper that is. But there's just.... something about that boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Men of Death Must Learn to Grieve

When children tell stories about him, it is of skeletons with scythes and billowing black robes. 

Pulling uniform from wardrobe, Severus grins morbidly. They did at least get one part right. It has changed over the last millenia, these days more cloak than honest robe, but still enough to make a statement. Men of Death do not get many comforts, but he takes his where he can.

Which, explains his current dilemma. 

"Sev!" 

The young man racing up to him at the train station is twenty two, though Severus has teased him more than once that he probably just has a fake id. A mop of black hair hangs, mostly messy but slightly strategic to hide a scar that rests on his forehead, and green eyes peer at him through thick rimmed glasses as the young man reaches up to both check that said scar is hidden and to attempt to flatten his hair further.

Severus does not bother telling him that he knows it exists, no more than he’d ever tell the boy that he was there when he got it. Jokes about age aside, he is a man of Death and well aware that this young man has seen him far more than he should.

During the average person’s life time, he will run into them two, maybe three times. Brush their hand on a train, hand them a tissue at the hospital, maybe even make small talk with them at the bar. No one ever seems to connect him to the accidents later, or even connect the first and last time that they’ll ever see him.

Yet, twenty one years ago he’d been busy at a car crash, trying to finish up and move on before the paramedics arrived, and the boy had seen him. Sometimes he blames a moment of weakness, how he’d paused in his duties to wipe the blood from the baby’s face, for the young man’s affection for him. 

Seven years later, he’d seen the young boy again, this time- up a tree while a pudgy boy taunted him from below. Severus usually tries not to interfere with the business of mortals, but couldn’t stop himself from brushing against Dudley’s shoulder as he passed by. According to Harry, the boy still has nightmares of skeleton men with shining blades.

Two years ago though… that had been his greatest moment of weakness. Fingers poised to cause a heart attack in the middle of a Calculus lecture, when Severus had glanced up and met green eyes. It was entirely impossible that the young man could actually see him, Severus had centuries of practice when it came to cloaking himself at the right time- and yet…. he allowed the professor to live, at least for now and fled.

He wasn’t surprised when the twenty year old had run into him in the hallway later that day,

"Are you a student here? You look familiar but I can’t quite place it."

He should have explained himself away. Claimed to be a visitor or something else before disappearing into the crowd never to be seen again. Instead had explained that he did frequent the area, allowed the young man to buy him a coffee. 

Agreed to meet him again.

and again.

Didn’t protest when one night the man’s fingers had found his collar. He had managed to convince Harry to allow him to remove his uniform himself, unable to allow the man to sully what they were about to do with death on his finger tips. Had kissed those lips, had enjoyed the man’s le petite mort much more than he enjoyed his job.

A year since and he’s stopped asking what Severus does, stopped trying to wrangle promises from him. The man takes what Severus allows him, never asks any more.

Which is what makes this so hard.

"It’s been a bit! Hope you aren’t mad at me, but Ron, you know the ginger with the huge family? well… he had an accident. " There’s a pause but Harry rushes to finish, "But he’ll be fine. I’ve just been spending a lot of time at the hospital ya know? He’s got surgery today but doc says if all goes well… he can be home within the month."

The surgery will not go well and Severus is well aware of where Harry has been. Ronald Weasley had been scheduled to be taken last week, but the young man’s presence in the hospital had delayed the Reaper so far. It couldn’t last much longer, there was an order to things. 

"Harry…."

"Mhm?"

He can’t say it. Wants to tell Harry to go home and rest, that his friend can wait. It’d be easy then, maybe he’d even go with him, allow him a few moments of joy before tucking him in and going about his job. It’d be easy, he could stand it if Harry passively blamed him for a missed chance to say goodbye, would enjoy being the one to help him grieve, but most definitely couldn’t….

"Have you perhaps considered… saying goodbye just in case?"

"No. He’s not. no. He’s not going to die, Sev. He can’t."  
"Everyone dies, Harry. You know this as well as I. Look, I’ll ride the train with you, and come with you. I can afford to take the day off from work," though no, he wasn’t not really. and there was a clenching in his chest as he lied. 

"It is better to make peace, and it be unnecessary than to never say the words and lose your chance."

The train ride is solemn. The boy pressed against his chest, boy, because that is very much what he still is. Still young and naive and inexperienced. Angry and desperately seeking comfort in the same breath.

In the hospital room, the red head eyes him warily, but keeps most of his attention on the boy. Harry clings to him, tells him how much he loves him, thanks him for Christmas Dinners and outrageous birthday parties. Makes him promise that next year, they’ll go to Paris during break- see the eiffel tower and laugh through the museums.

When his voice cracks, Harry flees the room under the excuse of getting some water for them both. The thin boy in the hospital watches him go.

"So this is how it happens, huh?"

Severus looks up sharply.

"I know who you are… Don’t know if others have seen you. Might want to get rid of cloak if you’re trying to be really inconspicuous. Usually don’t even see you, just… the tail end twirling and then the beeping, the codes, the crying. 

The face though… you didn’t want him to be there, did you? Thought I was going right mad, I did. Kept seeing glimpses of that beaky nose in the mirror or in the window. 

If you really don’t want him to see… you might want to be quick.

Promise to take care of him though, he's been through..... he's been through a lot. Guess it figures he’d get Death as a guardian angel.”

He had planned to wait, planned to do it during surgery. But the man looks so determined, so ready to go. Severus doesn’t bother cloaking himself as he tends to, he doesn’t show up on video feeds or in pictures, the only way to see it is in person, and what’s the point of hiding from someone who already knows who you are.

The soul leaving the body is a beautiful thing, something Severus has always admired. When Ron’s eyes flutter shut, it’s like a swirling of light trailing his finger tips as they move first from the heart and then directing it into the pouch he carries on his right hip.

"No.

No.

No.”

When it’s done, Severus turns, startled by the voice that is finally reaching him. A steady mantra of dissent as Harry stares at him with wide eyes.

"Harry…"

"No. no. no. no. you couldn’t. you can’t. no."

"Harry… I did not kill him, merely helped him along. It was his time…"

"No…. no. you can’t be. how could you be…"

When Harry flees, Severus sinks onto the bed next to the corpse. He has places to be, souls to collect, Death does not get to take mental health days, but he can’t convince himself to move on just yet.

For the first time, Death is the one forced to grieve. Not the one to take but the one to lose.

and he isn’t sure how to handle that.


End file.
